


chasing down a thrill

by hipsterchrist



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms), Blow Jobs, Caleb Covington Being a Bastard, Checkmate Caleb, Clothed Sex, Cock Warming, Coming Untouched, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Facials, First Time, Hair-pulling, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Manipulation, Manipulative Relationship, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Nipple Play, Older Man/Younger Man, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Finale, Praise Kink, Public Blow Jobs, Public Masturbation, Rough Sex, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:14:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27525946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hipsterchrist/pseuds/hipsterchrist
Summary: When Reggie finally finishes his sentence, it’s still half-formed and small. “I can’t stop thinking about it - the way it sounded….”“The applause?” Caleb asks, stepping backward toward the mirror, eyes never leaving Reggie. He knows it’s not the applause - not really - but it doesn’t hurt to remind the kid of how amazing that audience reception felt.“No. When you--” Reggie shoves his hands back into the pockets of his jeans and looks up at Caleb, who barely hears him when he says, “--when you called me ‘baby.’”Or, Reggie doesn't know what he's doing, what he wants, or what he's in for--but Caleb does.
Relationships: Caleb Covington/Reggie
Comments: 17
Kudos: 103





	chasing down a thrill

**Author's Note:**

> Let’s get the housekeeping out of the way, shall we? This takes place post-Orpheum finale, but minus the possession of Nick. Title is from “You Got Nothing to Lose,” courtesy of Caleb Covington and his Hollywood Ghost Club band, obviously from the Julie and the Phantoms soundtrack. Thank you to Kenny Ortega for just letting Cheyenne Jackson loose in this role as the Professor Ratigan of _Julie and the Phantoms_ (2020-TBD). We love a queer-coded villain in this house.
> 
> Now, onward.
> 
> First of all, if you’ve read my other Julie & the Phantoms fic and clicked this one thinking it might be more of the same, I implore you to read the tags, because this ain’t it. I do plan to write more sweet idiot Phantoms boys exploring their sexuality and being dummies in love - I have to make it up to Reggie after publishing _this_ \- but this is not that.
> 
> Secondly, I’ve been in fandom for a long ass time (I’m talking, like, almost 20 years) and I know shit’s different out there these days, but look. If this sort of fic doesn’t appeal to you, all you have to do is push the back button and keep scrolling. If this fic _does_ appeal to you, welcome, and repeat after me: the fandom police can’t hurt you because the fandom police aren’t real.
> 
> Third, if you read this and recognize a relationship that you and/or your friend(s)/family member(s) are currently in, I want you to know that it’s extremely unhealthy, and I hope you can find help to get out of it. 
> 
> And finally: Reggie. Sweet, sweet Reggie. I am so sorry, honey.

Caleb knew Reggie would be back. 

“We haven’t changed our minds,” Reggie says, when Caleb tells him as much. He’s frowning, but he sticks out his chin in a show of defiance. It’s cute. It’s as if he thinks Caleb can’t see perfectly well that his legs are trembling like a newborn fawn’s.

“Oh no, Reggie, you misunderstand me,” Caleb says smoothly, approaching him with a sure swagger. He reaches out with both hands, touches Reggie’s jaw under his ears for the briefest moment before smiling at him, silky and certain. “I knew _you’d_ be back.”

The shift in Reggie’s demeanor is instantaneous, and it’s been awhile since Caleb has had someone so fun upstairs in his dressing room with him. He has to really put in some effort to hide his delight at the way his words put Reggie on edge, raise his hackles. His shoulders are up by his ears, just below where Caleb’s fingers were seconds ago, and his pale skin is blushing blotchy red from his cheeks to his collarbone, and his gulp is both visible and audible, almost comically so. Caleb breathes it in, reveling.

“Wh-why?” Reggie asks. 

“Oh, I think that’s for _you_ to tell _me_ ,” Caleb says brightly, but it’s not because he doesn’t have some idea of the answer. He just wants to hear Reggie say it, as loudly as his innocent little voice will let him.

“I--I don’t know,” Reggie says, and it honestly sounds like he means it. “I don’t know why I’m here. I just--” He cuts himself off abruptly, looks down at his hands as he takes them from his pockets, fidgeting. Caleb, standing still an arm’s length away from him, eyebrows raised in waiting, offers him no reprieve. When Reggie finally finishes his sentence, it’s still half-formed and small. “I can’t stop thinking about it - the way it sounded….” 

“The applause?” Caleb asks, stepping backward toward the mirror, eyes never leaving Reggie. He knows it’s not the applause - not _really_ \- but it doesn’t hurt to remind the kid of how amazing that audience reception felt. Well, it doesn’t hurt _Caleb_ , at least.

“No. When you--” Reggie shoves his hands back into the pockets of his jeans and looks up at Caleb, who barely hears him when he says, “--when you called me ‘baby.’”

_Hah._ Caleb, careful and cool, barely changes his expression, only raises his eyebrows by another eighth of an inch. 

“Is that all?” he asks, allowing a mere ounce of interest into his tone. Reggie hunches his shoulders but, to his credit, doesn’t drop his gaze.

“The way it made me feel,” he says. Caleb nods thoughtfully and gives Reggie a slow once-over. By the time his eyes reach Reggie’s face again, it’s paled a little around his jaw, but his cheeks are still bright pink.

“Well,” says Caleb, “what do you want to do about it?” Reggie furrows his brow, clearly not expecting this reaction. It does make Caleb wonder what the kid _did_ expect, but not nearly enough to dwell on the possibilities.

“I--I don’t know,” Reggie answers. “I didn’t know there’d be a quiz.” Caleb smiles, and at least half of it is genuine. Reggie’s the amusing one.

“Tell you what: I’ll give you time to think about it,” Caleb says. “It’s been a long night here, and usually around this time I have a bit of a refreshment before heading out. Join me, will you?” He walks toward the bar in the center of the room, his profile suddenly descending into shadow. Reggie takes a few steps closer to him - he wants to keep Caleb clear in his sight, keep looking at him. Caleb smiles to himself as he pours himself a drink before turning to Reggie and raising an empty glass.

“Scotch?” he offers. Reggie’s lip curls.

“No, thank you,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t really like alcohol.” He must realize immediately how young that makes him sound, because he looks away then, cringing.

“No problem,” Caleb says easily. He places the empty glass back on the bartop and holds up his hand, as if mid-flourish. “What would you like instead? Surely there’s a beverage that you enjoy. Something discontinued, perhaps?” Reggie looks back at Caleb and shrugs.

“I was one of, like, six people who liked New Coke.” Caleb smiles and snaps his fingers. A leotard-clad assistant appears at Reggie’s side at once, a glass bottle of soda on a silver platter. Reggie takes it, surprised and running on something like autopilot, and the woman leaves without a word. Caleb jerks his head toward the sofa against the back wall, shrouded in more shadow, and holds up a bottle opener between two fingers.

“Sit with me. Think over your answer to my question,” he says. He turns away then and walks to the couch, takes a seat himself. He doesn’t pat the space beside him - he’d never do anything so pedestrian - but he does drape his arm over the back of it, inviting, and lets his legs spread casually, _promising_. Reggie follows after a moment and sits on the edge of the cushion, plucking the bottle opener from Caleb’s hand and popping the top off his bottle of Coke with a satisfying little _ka-thunk_. Caleb takes back the opener, disappearing it in his fist, and clinks his glass against the bottle in Reggie’s hand before taking another swallow of whiskey. 

They sit in silence for awhile. Caleb’s not bothered, but Reggie’s knee bounces incessantly as he slowly drinks the soda. After several minutes, after his bottle should’ve emptied a couple times over, Reggie raises it up to his level of vision, narrows his eyes at it before turning a suspicious gaze onto Caleb.

“Is this your crazy ghost magic?” he asks. “Or--are you drugging me?” Caleb raises an eyebrow, gives him a little lopsided smile.

“Reggie. Baby.” Reggie shivers, full-bodied and starting at the back of his neck. “If I wanted to make you do something against your will, I could just stamp you again, remember?” He places his empty glass on the coffee table in front of them and fixes Reggie with an intense, clear look. “Anything you and I do back here is all on you. Nothing more than what you want, nothing less. Do you understand?” Reggie swallows and gives a jerky little nod, rubs his free hand over his thigh, undoubtedly trying to dry the sweat on his palm. 

“But that’s why Daddy needs you to use your words,” Caleb says, voice low and dripping with heavy intention. Reggie hisses in a breath. “You have to tell me exactly what it is you want right now.” It takes a long moment, but when Reggie looks at him and speaks, Caleb has to hand it to him: the kid’s voice doesn’t shake.

“I wanna suck you off,” Reggie says, “and I--I want you to call me ‘baby.’’ Caleb smiles and leans forward to take the bottle from Reggie’s hand, setting it on the table next to his glass and taking a few slow seconds to look down at Reggie’s mouth. Then he leans back again against the sofa, spreads his legs a little more and gestures downward.

“Anything you want, baby.” 

Reggie sucks cock like a virgin. Caleb rolls his eyes once or twice, when Reggie isn’t looking up all doe-eyed and nervous at him, desperate to impress. It’s hot, though, that his is the first dick Reggie’s had in his pretty mouth. He reaches down and draws his fingers through Reggie’s hair, cupping his hand at the back of Reggie’s head. He doesn’t push, but the implication is there, making the kid tremble and try harder, take him deeper. Caleb tips his head back eventually, diligently letting out little moans and gasps, encouraging words peppered with _baby_ , soft and scorching. Caleb closes his eyes and smiles to himself, something twisted and self-serving where Reggie can’t see, because Caleb knows something Reggie doesn’t. 

Caleb’s going to break him in, teach him the good stuff, mold his skills and tastes and proclivities to Caleb’s interests alone. He knows exactly how to do this. He’s done it plenty before, after all. He knows the precise type of manipulation, the exact ratio of affection to disapproval, the perfect way to personalize it. He doesn’t know many details about Reggie - not yet, although his assistants will be all over it tomorrow - but the kid _reeks_ of daddy issues, and, oh, it’s been too many boys backstage since Caleb’s been able to play that card.

He looks back down at Reggie, thrusting his hips just a little - nothing forceful, only for encouragement, and Reggie moans, his eyelids fluttering shut. Caleb sighs.

This whole thing would probably be more satisfying with Alex, undoubtedly hotter with Luke. Reggie is too sweet for this, really, too trusting, too vulnerable. Caleb should tell him to stop, zip up, and send him away, make sure the bouncers know not to let him back inside the club anymore. But, well, Caleb was never a particularly good person, even alive. And he really, _really_ wants to see what Reggie’s pretty face looks like covered in his come.

“Baby,” he says, voice hitching on purpose. Reggie glances up and pulls off, breathing heavily.

“Yes?” His voice isn’t nearly hoarse enough for Caleb’s liking, but they’ll get there. Caleb’s hand travels to Reggie’s jaw, stroking over his blushing cheekbone.

“You’re doing so well,” he says, feeling Reggie’s face grow even hotter under his fingers. “I’m close.” It’s true, but it doesn’t have much to do at all with Reggie’s beginner level skills. A warm mouth is a warm mouth, though, and his own imagination has been running ahead of him, ahead of the two of them, thinking of all the things he’s going to do to Reggie. 

“Really?” Reggie asks, breathy and surprised. His eyes are big and bright, eager. Caleb nods, licks his lips. 

“Will you let Daddy come on your face this time?” he asks, a practiced method. He’s framing it like it’s Reggie’s decision, like it’ll be just this once and every other time Reggie can have a little dignity and swallow instead. Reggie shudders, lips parted as he nods.

“Yeah, yes,” he says, and Caleb has to push back a little, slip his hand back around and grab him by the nape of his neck.

“I need you to say it, baby. Say the words.” Reggie gulps, his whole body trembling. This time, his voice shakes, so fucking sweetly.

“I--I want you to come on my face.”

“Anything you want, baby,” Caleb says, smiling softly, and guides Reggie back to his cock with a gentle hand. It takes another twenty, maybe thirty seconds before he’s pushing Reggie backward again, thirty more before he’s aware enough to get a good look at the display before him, and learns that he was right.

Reggie _is_ the prettiest twink Caleb’s had at his disposal in decades.

\---

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” Reggie says again a week later. He fidgets in the doorway, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Caleb pours whiskey into a glass.

“What’s that, baby?” he asks, taking a long sip as he turns to look at Reggie, who follows the movement in Caleb’s throat as he swallows. 

“That you, um, you didn’t kiss me, the last time I was here.” Caleb masterfully schools a creeping smirk off his face. He didn’t get the kid off either - just told him how gorgeous he looked with come on his face before handing him a washcloth to clean himself up and sending him on his way - but the fact that Reggie’s focus is on something so basic and romantic as a kiss is even more promising than Caleb was prepared for.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to kiss you,” he says smoothly. “How can I know what you want if you don’t tell me, baby?” Reggie bites his lip and glances away.

“Sorry,” he says. “I--I want you to kiss me this time.” He looks back at Caleb. “Please.”

“That’s better,” says Caleb. Reggie smiles at the inch or so of pride in Caleb’s voice. Caleb smiles back as he places his glass on the bar and takes a step toward him. “Now, what kind of kiss would you like?” Reggie blinks, downright adorable in his confusion.

“What are my options?” he asks, bold if not for the tremor in his tone. Caleb grins, keeps it light and affectionate.

“Well, there is, of course, the classic chaste first kiss,” he says, “but as handsome and charming as you are, I’m sure you graduated beyond that well before your untimely death.” 

“I didn’t actually graduate at all,” says Reggie. “We dropped out senior year.” Caleb wills himself to not roll his eyes.

“But you’ve kissed people before,” he says. “I’m sure the girls were tripping over themselves to make out with you at all the high school dances and parties.” Reggie blushes and shrugs one shoulder, all faux modesty.

“I did alright.” Caleb gives him an indulgent smile and approaches him slowly, watches the blush rise higher on his cheeks with every step closer.

“Have you ever kissed a boy, though, Reggie?” he asks. He’s nearer than arm’s reach now, close enough to both hear and feel Reggie take a shaky breath. 

“No.” Caleb reaches out and brushes his fingertips over Reggie’s lips, full and pink. They tremble at his touch.

“And never a man, either, I presume,” Caleb says. Reggie’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head in a tight, fearful movement. Caleb’s fingers drift softly down Reggie’s chin to his neck, where the kid’s throat works over nothing but nerves, and he licks his lips. One day, sooner than later, he’ll fuck Reggie’s mouth and rest his hand over the column of his throat and feel his cock working in and out, but that’s not for now. For now, he meets Reggie’s eyes and gives him a small, tender smile.

“So you genuinely don’t even know what to ask for, do you?”

“But _you_ do,” Reggie says in a rush. “You could--you can kiss me however you want, whatever you think I’d like.” The warmth of a small victory blooms in Caleb’s chest as he tilts his head, giving Reggie a considering look.

“If you’re sure,” he says, and Reggie nods earnestly. “Then use your words, baby. Make sure Daddy knows exactly what you want.” 

“I want you to kiss me how you want,” Reggie says, breathy already. “Please.” 

“Anything you want, baby,” Caleb says, and closes the space between them.

He’s not gentle with it, not slow or soft, but it’s not like he’s uncontrolled. Caleb kisses Reggie with confidence and certainty, both hands cupped at the back of his head, fingers stroking over the sensitive skin of his neck. It’s deep and passionate, something to assure Reggie that, for all his inexperience and awkwardness, he still sparks desire in Caleb, something to give _him_ some measure of confidence. The kiss isn’t a lie, by any means, but Reggie doesn’t have to know that it’s _because_ of his inexperience, not despite it.

When Caleb pulls away, Reggie follows with a little whine, upset at the loss of contact, of Caleb’s lips and tongue and grazing teeth. Caleb hums, pleased with both himself and Reggie, and allows one quick kiss again before really pulling back, fingers digging meaningfully into the back of Reggie’s neck. It suffices to settle Reggie down for the moment, but not for long, Caleb knows. The kid is more eager than anyone he’s taken backstage, desperate and brave and trusting. He’s going to want another kiss as soon as his breathing evens out a little, but Caleb has another idea, and a foolproof way of making Reggie think the idea is actually his.

He strokes over Reggie’s bottom lip with his thumb, eyes roaming over his face but always coming back to his lips, all plush and bitten and wet. Reggie’s tongue darts out, catching the tip of Caleb’s thumb. Caleb smiles at him.

“You have such a beautiful mouth, baby,” he says, breath heavy, like the kiss took something from him, too. “You should see it right now. It looks exactly like it did last week after you sucked Daddy’s cock.”

“I can do that again,” Reggie blurts out. Caleb raises an eyebrow. “I want to,” Reggie says. “I want to suck you off again. Please?”

“Right here, baby?” Caleb asks in a crooning tone. He’s careful to make it seem as if he’s worried over Reggie’s comfort, as if he wouldn’t fuck his face in any filthy back alley in Los Angeles if he wasn’t working toward a more enduring goal.

Reggie, for his part, drops to his knees, his hands immediately going for Caleb’s belt, but stilling, looking up at him for permission. 

“Right here,” he says breathlessly. “I want to suck you off again right here, like this. Please let me--and--and teach me. I want to get good at it for you.”

“You are good at it, baby,” Caleb says, resting his hand on the crown of Reggie’s head. 

“I wanna be better,” Reggie says, “and I can’t--I’m not, like, practicing with anyone else, you know, when I’m not here, so.” His hands tremble on Caleb’s belt buckle, but he doesn’t look away. “I want you to teach me how to be better at--at sucking your cock.”

“Very well,” Caleb says with a happy little sigh. There are few things he loves more than a pretty young thing on his knees at his feet, but a plan coming together seamlessly might be one of them. “Anything you want, baby. I’ll make you an expert.”

It’s the first lesson of many, more than Caleb would’ve expected, if he’s honest, but Reggie’s slow learning is to his advantage regardless. Reggie is there, in his dressing room, once a week, sometimes twice, and on his knees, eager to please, ready to learn. Caleb knows better than to rush things - he doesn’t want to scare Reggie off, of course - but he pushes more and more with each visit, little by little, and watches the kid go red all down his neck as he tries each new thing. 

He beams with pride after the first time he manages to successfully fight back his gag reflex and take Caleb all the way to the back of his throat, and then the next week he coughs for three full minutes after Caleb chokes him with a thrust forward before apologizing and jumping right back into it, tears clinging to his long eyelashes as Caleb slowly fucks his throat and tells him what a good boy he’s being for Daddy. His face burns bright red the first time he does as instructed and takes Caleb’s balls into his mouth, squeezes his eyes shut as he sucks and licks and hums just like Caleb says, and barely meets his eyes when he’s leaving for the night, but then the next week he does it without needing to be told, and the week after that, with only minimal prompting, he tells Caleb he wants to suck his balls while Caleb strokes his own cock and comes on his face like that, and well, what kind of Daddy would Caleb be if he denied his baby something when he’s asked so nicely for it.

There is nothing in the world Reggie loves more than making people happy. Call it the result of an upbringing with parents whose marriage he could never quite fix - Caleb knows the details now, committed all the research to memory before Reggie even returned for that first kiss - but it doesn’t really matter the reason, only that it works so damn perfectly in Caleb’s favor. It’s not surprising that Reggie thrives on praise and attention, not after seeing the way he plays music, but it’s different from the way Luke and Alex do. Caleb had it pinpointed the moment they met: Reggie’s need for a more personal touch, for someone to pick him out separately, to recognize his hard work, to make him _earn it_. Reggie needs things spelled out for him, and Caleb knows a dozen different ways to say, _”Don’t you want to make Daddy happy, baby?”_

It’s been nearly three months of this and Reggie’s lost count of what lesson they’re on, but Caleb hasn’t. It’s Lesson Number 17 and they’ve been working on developing Reggie’s patience. He gets over-eager and excitable when he knows he’s doing a good job, always wants to double down, but Caleb’s taught him that it can be just as good when done slowly, drawn out. So it is that Reggie’s on his knees on the dressing room floor with Caleb’s cock in his throat, taking harsh breaths through his nose as he focuses on continuing to valiantly suppress his gag reflex so he can stay just like this, not moving or sucking or licking or _anything_ , until Caleb tells him otherwise.

Caleb is in no particular hurry. He’s sitting on the sofa, absentmindedly swirling the Scotch in his glass with one hand and perusing a magazine with the other. The more he ignores Reggie’s efforts, the more effort Reggie will expend to impress him, to be good for Daddy, and then when he finally does lavish his baby with praise, Reggie will sink into it just like Caleb wants him to, will forget all about how hollow it made him feel to be so thoroughly ignored for so many minutes. This stage of the long game is all about rewiring the brain, Caleb knows, and Reggie might not have much in the way of brains to begin with, but the process is delicate nonetheless, and Caleb has plans for the two of them. He’s not about to take any chances.

After ten more minutes tick by on the grandfather clock across the room, Caleb tosses the magazine aside and looks down at Reggie, who’s gazing up at him, wide-eyed - bright and shining, a little bit teary like always, and Caleb hopes the gag reflex never fully gets trained out of him - from between his legs. There’s a lightness to Reggie’s face, flushed deep red though it is, that tells Caleb the kid would be smiling if his mouth wasn’t full of cock. Caleb disappears the whiskey glass with a flick of his wrist before reaching down to trace where Reggie’s lips are stretched wide around his dick with his fingers. Reggie’s whole body trembles.

“Twenty-three minutes, baby, look at you,” Caleb says, genuinely impressed. “Fourteen minutes longer than last week. You’re doing so well.” On the floor, Reggie’s eyelids flutter under the compliment. His mouth waters around Caleb’s cock. “Do you have any requests before I get a proper blowjob from you?” He taps twice along Reggie’s jaw - permission - and Reggie pulls off his cock quickly, takes a deep, ragged breath.

“Um, can you--wow,” Reggie pauses and makes an alarmed face at the scratchy sound of his own voice. 

“Take a few breaths, baby,” Caleb says soothingly, tugging at Reggie’s hair now just hard enough to sting. Reggie nods and obeys before trying again.

“Can you come inside my mouth this time, please?” he asks. “I’ll show you before I swallow. Or--or you can just come down my throat, you know, make me take it.” Caleb hums like he’s considering it.

“I _can_ ,” he says after a few moments, petting at Reggie’s hair now instead, a gentle touch. “I will if you want me to, of course - you call the shots back here, you know that.” Reggie nods tentatively. “It’s just that you look so _pretty_ covered in my come, baby. Oh, but--you’ve never seen it. You really have no idea, do you?” Reggie swallows, winces because it must hurt his throat, and shakes his head. “Do you want me to show you?”

“Yes,” Reggie says. Caleb moves his hand away from Reggie at once.

“Yes, _what_?” he asks, seeping annoyance into his tone. Reggie winces again, leans forward.

“I want you to show me what--what I look like with your come on my face,” he says. Caleb smiles and resumes petting his hair.

“Anything you want, baby,” he says. “Go on, then. Get me there.” It only takes a few minutes - Reggie has learned a _lot_ since that fumbling first time here - before Reggie’s pulling off Caleb’s cock again, knowing the timing perfectly by now, and Caleb is coming. Then Caleb’s zipping up and standing before Reggie can even sit back on his heels, hauling the kid up by his arm instead and over to the vanity, where the warm golden light from the bulbs shine bright on their faces and Reggie can finally _see_ himself. 

“See how gorgeous you are like this?” Caleb says, low and raspy in Reggie’s ear as he stands behind him, impossibly close. Reggie’s breathing has gone ragged again as he stares at his reflection, eyes round and lips parted in awe. “Your pretty face dripping with my come….” Caleb draws his fingers through the mess along Reggie’s jawline before slipping them into Reggie’s open mouth. Reggie sucks on them eagerly, instantly, and Caleb risks displaying a slick smile, knowing full well Reggie’s too busy looking at his own face to notice.

“Such a perfect mouth, baby,” Caleb whispers. “So greedy. That’s the only reason you ever think to ask me to come anywhere besides this face, isn’t it? You're just thinking with your greedy mouth and forgetting to be good for Daddy.” Reggie nods as best he can with Caleb pressing down on his tongue. Caleb licks a wet hot stripe along the back of Reggie’s neck, savors the vibrations of Reggie’s whimper around his fingers before removing them entirely. Reggie’s gasp turns into a moan, loud and long and surprised, when Caleb palms his hard cock through his jeans. The sensation of the pressure is lasting, but the touch itself is brief, nothing but one slow grind of the heel of his hand before he moves away, steps back and leaves Reggie swaying, dizzy. A cloth napkin appears with a snap of Caleb’s fingers and he holds it out for Reggie, who accepts it with a shaking hand and begins to wipe the come from his face.

Caleb will fuck Reggie in this exact spot one day. He’ll bend him over the vanity and pull his hair and tell him to look in the mirror and watch himself getting fucked. Reggie will love it by then, will get off on it, but for now Caleb ruffles Reggie’s hair in an actual paternal way and simultaneously nips sharply at his earlobe in a decidedly non-paternal way, and bids him farewell. Even as he crosses the room to retrieve his top hat and cloak from the coat rack, Caleb can hear the synapses firing in all the wrong places in Reggie’s brain, and when he glances back before rounding the corner toward the stairs, he can see in Reggie’s eyes, so conveniently lit by the vanity bulbs, the wires crossing ever tighter, fraying against each other, open and exposed.

\---

"What was all _that_ about?" Reggie asks when he steps foot into the dressing room five days later after stomping up the stairs. He usually enters quietly, like every performer at the club doesn't know why he's been there all night waiting for the party to wind down, but he seems annoyed tonight, maybe even angry. Caleb raises an eyebrow and meets Reggie’s eyes in the reflection of the mirror, but doesn’t turn to face him. 

“Use your words, Reggie,” he says, condescending and even. Reggie deflates just a little, his face blanching as his approaching steps slow to a halt. Caleb bites back a smile as he wriggles his tie loose in a practiced movement.

“That dancer - Angelina? She said _you_ told her to make sure I had a _'good time'_ at tonight’s party,” Reggie says. He sounds confused and aroused and mad about all of it, but his attention is focused all on Caleb, which reveals the truth: he’s _worried_. Caleb makes a bored face, makes sure to maintain it long enough for Reggie to see it, and shifts his gaze from Reggie’s eyes in the mirror to his own hairline.

“That’s true, but in fairness, Angelina is one who’s had her eye on you since your very first visit to our club,” he says casually, “so all that attention tonight? It wasn’t a lie. I’m surprised you didn’t take her up on her offer.”

“Why would I--” Reggie starts, taking a step forward before stopping again, words and motion as cut off as his anger. He frowns and looks away, stuffing his fists into his pockets. “Did I--did I do something? To--to make you mad?”

“Of course not, baby,” Caleb says, no softness to it at all. He picks up a nail file from the vanity table and holds up his hand, examining his fingernails. It makes Reggie think he’s being ignored, but Caleb sees everything without having to _see_ it: skin paling with the cold rush of anxiety, shoulders slumping with gnawing self-doubt, eyes widening with desperation to fix it. “It only occurred to me, after your last visit, that you’ve never gotten off throughout any of our--” He pauses, tilts his head up and narrows his eyes, as if searching for the right word, as if every word hasn’t already been carefully selected and rehearsed. “-- _activities_ ,” he finishes, before resuming his inspection of his nails.

“I--I didn’t think that was part of my lessons,” Reggie says quietly, _meekly_ , and oh, if that doesn’t go directly to Caleb’s cock. He’s never had a test this early in the game go _this_ well. He raises an eyebrow and meets Reggie’s eyes in the mirror again.

“You’re right, Reggie, it _isn’t_ part of your lessons,” he says, and then, lower, so Reggie will wonder if he heard him correctly, “Smart boy.” He replaces the nail file on the table and finally turns away from the mirror, to face Reggie, but he doesn’t move forward at all, just keeps his distance. “It did strike me as odd, though, that you’ve never so much as brought it up, despite being an eager seventeen-year-old boy. There’s certainly never any evidence in this room that you finish up, after I’ve gone, which means you must leave here hard and wanting, desperate even.” Reggie blushes and glances away. Caleb leans back a little to rest his hands on the edge of the vanity table, casual and unbothered and smooth. Reggie swallows when he looks back.

“So," Caleb continues, with resignation and disappointment in his voice, “I’m forced to assume that you’ve been seeking - and probably finding - your own pleasure elsewhere after leaving my establishment.”

“No, no, I’m not--” Reggie rushes to protest.

“And I know you prefer women, so I figured--”

“I--I don’t--”

“--I’d make it easier to keep your activities confined to a space and a pool of options where _I’ll_ know you’re being safe.”

“But--I’m not--” There’s a delicious measure of doubt in Reggie’s tone now as he trips over his words, a creeping bit of warmth, so clearly thrown by the idea that Caleb’s concerned about his safety, exactly as planned.

“You know, Angelina was the one in the aerial hoop that night I met you,” Caleb says. “Don’t think I don’t remember the way you looked at her up there - _you_ were ready to figure out how to fly if it meant you got even a chance to ogle her up close. And that was when she was still in costume! I thought you’d be over the _moon_ to have the opportunity to see her--”

"I don’t _want_ Angelina!” Reggie exclaims, his vehemence carrying him a few steps nearer to Caleb. “I haven’t been _seeking out_ anyone else to--to get off with!” Caleb makes a dubious face, tinged with boredom, and Reggie’s eyes widen even more. “I promise--I just--I leave here and poof back home--back to the studio--and I--I take a shower--and sometimes it's a _cold_ shower just to calm me down and I don’t--I don’t come at all those nights, but sometimes I do, sometimes I--I jerk off in the shower, thinking about _you_! Please, you gotta believe me, Caleb, I haven’t been--with anyone else--’cause I don’t _want_ anyone else--I swear.”

“Alright, baby, I believe you, I believe you,” Caleb says, pushing off the vanity and finally approaching Reggie, reaching out to cup Reggie’s face with both hands. The poor kid is practically in tears now, his skin all blotchy pink and his eyes shining, trembling all over, and Caleb’s dick is rock hard in his trousers, straining against the soft fabric. He raises one hand to pet soothingly over the hair above Reggie’s ear. “Shh, there’s no need to be upset, baby,” he says softly. “Daddy didn’t know. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t out there letting any old ghost have a piece of you. You’re better than that, baby.” Reggie sniffs once and looks away, embarrassed, but the color rising in his face is a response to the caring tone, the reassuring words, the gentle touch, the tender affirmations. He’s so predictable that it would be boring if he wasn’t such a sweet thing.

“It’s just you,” Reggie says, hands fidgeting down by his waist. “I’m all--I’m all--” Caleb knows what he’s trying to say - _I’m all yours_ \- and as much as he wants to hear those words from this pretty, stammering mouth, he resists the urge to prompt him to say it. It’s not technically true, after all. Not yet. It will be, in time, and Caleb will make sure he says it then.

“I know, baby. Daddy understands now,” Caleb says. He kisses Reggie on the forehead and pulls back to look at him again, feels a rush of pride at a job well done to see the kid’s eyelids fluttering and pupils dilating at the affection. “Come sit with me until you calm down.” He places his hand low on Reggie’s back and guides him over to the couch. Caleb sits down beside him, close enough for his knee to touch Reggie’s trembling one, and snaps his fingers.

“Pour me a drink,” Caleb tells the young lady in a glittering blue blazer who’s just stepped foot into the room. He rubs his hand over Reggie’s thigh. “Normally I would do it myself, but I don’t want to leave my baby’s side.” The explanation is unnecessary for the situation on paper, but divinely inspired for the full context. Reggie ducks his head and smiles sheepishly. When he’s handed his glass of Scotch, Caleb presses another kiss to Reggie’s temple and says, “Go ahead and send Angelina home. Her services aren’t necessary, after all,” without ever looking away from Reggie’s bright face.

“The club feels way sleazier now than it did before, by the way,” Reggie says a minute later, after Caleb’s taken a few sips. “I’ve been meaning to say.” Caleb laughs.

“Maybe it’s just because you know a little bit now of what goes on behind the scenes,” he says silkily, making Reggie blush. Caleb draws Reggie in closer to him with an arm around his shoulder, so that they’re almost cuddling. He feels Reggie relax against his side, slowly but surely, until no trace of shaking worry remains, and smiles as he takes another drink.

“What--um--what did you have planned for tonight’s lesson?” Reggie asks, reaching out to settle his hand on Caleb’s thigh. He’s ready to whip his hand back if Caleb expresses any displeasure with the touch, but it’s so, _so_ sweet in its tentativeness that it’s nearly saccharine, and Caleb allows it. 

“Well,” he says, drawing it out and inflecting his tone with some remorse, “I assumed you’d want to spend your time with--well, you know--and I didn’t prepare a lesson plan.”

“Oh,” Reggie says, disappointed, but it’s all pitched internally.

“ _But_ \--” Caleb places his hand on Reggie’s jaw and turns his head so their eyes meet, “if there’s one thing I excel in, it’s improvising.” Caleb smiles, so Reggie smiles, too, and then Caleb lowers his voice and asks, “So with that in mind, why don’t you tell Daddy how you touch yourself, baby?” Reggie’s smile falls into open-mouthed surprise and he begins to tremble again, but this time, it’s exhilaration.

“How I--how I touch myself?” he asks, gulping.

“Mmhmm,” says Caleb. He drops his hand from Reggie’s face to the collar of his white t-shirt, dances his fingertips there and listens for the hitch on Reggie’s breathing. “You stand there in the shower, warm water beating down on your body, dripping down your chest, and you slip your hand around your hard cock, and then what?” Reggie’s fingers twitch on Caleb’s thigh. He takes a deep, shaking breath, and then another.

“Can I--” he starts, but clears his throat, summoning some boldness. “I want to show you, instead. Is--is that okay?”

“You want to show me what, baby?” Caleb says. “Use your words. Assumptions are what got you so upset earlier, remember?” Reggie’s face flushes.

“I want to show you how I touch myself,” he says. Caleb smiles and leans in for a quick kiss on Reggie’s mouth.

“Very good job, baby.” He snaps his fingers and the coffee table before them vanishes, leaving the plush rug underneath, and light from the typically dim chandelier overhead grows brighter. Reggie doesn’t even say a word before moving from the couch to get on his knees on the rug in front of Caleb, unbuckling his belt and pushing his jeans down to his mid-thigh. Reggie’s cock is hard in his boxer briefs, the head of it leaving a wet spot against the heather grey cotton, and Caleb makes a pouty frown at the sight.

“That looks painful,” he says. Reggie huffs out a laugh.

“Trust me, it’s been worse.” He smooths his palms over the rug beside his knees. “Last time, actually. It was, um, a really close call. I barely got a hand on myself before--yeah.” Caleb nods, smiling.

“Let me see,” he says, and Reggie shifts to push his underwear down his thighs, too. Caleb can see his hands shaking. “Just like that, baby. Get the waistband up under your--good boy--and don’t touch yourself just yet. Daddy wants to see all of you.” Caleb takes a long sip of whiskey and _looks_ , watching as Reggie’s hard cock fills even more under the attention, his balls drawn up tight. “Does it happen often like that? You barely touching yourself before you come?”

“Um, yeah,” Reggie says, embarrassed. “Especially with--thinking about you, like I said, and--you know--what we’ve done.” Caleb tilts his head, one corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“Is that so?” Reggie nods. Caleb hums before continuing, “What is it, exactly? Do you touch your fingers to your bare neck and think about how your throat is a little sore from taking my cock so deep? Do you stand with your pretty face under the water and think about how my come feels on your skin?” Reggie sways and shudders, shutting his eyes, one hand instantly going to his dick and squeezing around the base.

“I--I don’t know,” he breathes, but it only sounds partially true. Caleb smirks.

“That’s okay, baby. I’ll help you figure it out,” he says. Reggie’s eyes blink open and Caleb smiles down at him, leans forward to touch Reggie’s jaw again, stroking his thumb high on his cheekbone. “Something tells me you’ve never learned how to truly pleasure yourself, how to find what you enjoy. A young man like you probably never had the privacy or time. Am I right?” Reggie swallows and bites his lip.

“Um. Well,” Reggie says, his brow furrowing as he thinks about it, “I guess not. I mean, I usually just--you know.” He lifts his free hand, presumably to make the obvious crude gesture, but stops before he can even mimic the shape, like he thinks it’d be rude. Caleb nods and leans back again, swirling his Scotch.

“I can teach you all that--if you want to learn from me, of course.”

“I do. I want that,” Reggie says eagerly, nodding frantically. Caleb smiles again, something sweet with an edge this time.

“I will, baby, but for now, my original request stands, if you don’t mind. Take a deep breath first, then show Daddy how you touch yourself when you’re alone after you leave here.” 

After one single shuddering breath, Reggie begins stroking his cock. Caleb can tell it’s taking a lot of effort for him to keep his pace as slow as it is, and it’s still faster than what Caleb will have him doing by this time next week. Reggie works his hand up and down the long shaft - slower on the way down, Caleb is sure to note - and twists his palm around the thick head, spreading wetness from his pre-come with every stroke downward. Caleb imagines him with a cockring on, how fucking pretty his breaking voice would sound, begging Caleb to let him come. 

Caleb knocks back the last of his whiskey and disappears the glass with a wave of his hand, taking his own deep breath to steady himself, clear his head. They’ll get there.

“You look so good, baby. I can’t believe you never thought to let Daddy see you like this. You make me so hard,” he says, palming himself through his pants. Reggie’s eyes follow the movement hungrily.

“Can I blow you?” Reggie asks, already leaning forward, but Caleb holds up a hand.

“I’d hate to distract you from your task,” he says. He rubs his cock through his pants again, this time rocking his hips up to meet the downward pressure. Reggie lets out a sad little moan.

“After I come then?” he asks. Caleb licks his bottom lip, staring down where Reggie’s fist is working diligently over his cock. He shakes his head and unzips, drawing out his own dick, raising his eyes to see Reggie swaying forward again, mouth open, wanting.

“I can’t wait that long, baby,” Caleb says roughly as he starts stroking himself. “Look what you do to me, baby; look how desperate you’ve made me.” A choked groan escapes Reggie’s lips, his own hand speeding up. “You can finish when you need to, Reggie. I bet you look so good when you come it’s gonna get me there, too, baby.”

“You can--when you do--you can come on my face,” Reggie says, voice harsh. “I want you to. I want you to come on my face.”

“Anything you want, baby,” Caleb says, moaning softly, and that’s when Reggie comes. He jerks himself through it with a loud groan, hips stuttering and thighs trembling. There’s a bit of a mess on his shirt when he’s finished, and he wipes his hand on his jeans without thinking, and Caleb almost rolls his eyes before Reggie looks up at him with that _face_ , perfect for taking Caleb’s come, and licks his lips.

“I want you to come on my face,” Reggie says again, breathless but encouraging - so fucking sweet. Caleb moans again, works his hand faster over his cock, and Reggie almost blows his fucking mind by shuffling forward on his knees unprompted, the awkward and stilted movement bringing him to his usual spot right between Caleb’s spread legs.

“Such a good learner, baby,” Caleb says, and he does mean it. It takes only a few more strokes before he’s coming, all over Reggie’s face, into his hair and dripping down his neck. Reggie blinks his eyes open carefully, a drop or two of come clinging to his lashes, and takes a breath that ends with his chest out and his shoulders squared back. Caleb gazes down, his own sense of pride matching the unmistakable picture Reggie makes, because this is confirmation: he knows now that Reggie _likes_ when Caleb comes on his face. 

“Oh, baby, you’ve done so well tonight. Daddy’s so fucking proud of you,” he says, and he _is_ , genuinely. Reggie, beaming up at him right now, isn't as quick a study as Caleb might’ve hoped for, but when the lesson does finally sink in, it _sticks_. 

\---

Reggie’s whole upper body convulses when Caleb lays his hand over the center of his bare chest. Caleb looks up to meet his eyes, raising one eyebrow, and Reggie flushes, embarrassed.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m just not, um, used to--this.” Caleb smiles.

“What, you mean you’re not used to standing naked before a man so he can look his fill of you before teaching you how to pleasure yourself?” There’s a sarcastic but soft edge to his voice that makes Reggie’s face go even redder as he shakes his head. “Good,” says Caleb. “I’d hate to have to be jealous of someone. It’s such an unsavory emotion, can lead a man to so many ugly acts.” He drifts his hand down Reggie’s chest from his sternum to just above his navel. The muscles of his abs twitch under his palm. “You, though - _you_ are beautiful, baby,” he says, soft and breathy. Reggie shivers.

“Am I?” he asks. “I mean, I know I’m _cute_ , but like--” He glances away for a moment, biting his lip. “You’re not, like, girls I went to high school with, or girls _Julie_ goes to high school with, and--and you’re not that twenty-two-year-old guy who hit on me once outside Coconut Teaszer.” Reggie’s hands clench and unclench at his sides. “You’re different, you know, you’re experienced. You’ve--you’ve been with, like, a _lot_ of people.” Caleb chuckles.

“That’s true, but you might be my very favorite, Reggie,” he says, sliding his hand around Reggie’s side to settle low on his back before pulling him forward until their bodies are flush together - Reggie naked head to toe, Caleb fully-clothed. Reggie shudders, his gaze dropping from Caleb’s eyes to his mouth. 

“Really?” he asks, wide-eyed. Caleb can feel how hard Reggie is through his pants. He rolls his hips forward so Reggie can feel him, too, and revels in the delicious way Reggie shivers all over again, in the shaky moan that escapes his throat. Caleb slips his hand down to squeeze Reggie’s ass, the tip of his index finger tracing ever-so-innocently just between the cheeks and eliciting a gasp. 

“Really,” he confirms, squeezing again. “You’re going to break Daddy’s heart one of these days.” Reggie frowns, like the possibility never occurred to him, which is just as well, because it’s not a real one, but the mere thought is already sinking in - Caleb can see it in the kid’s eyes - the idea that any power here between the two of them lies solely with him. Caleb stops groping him in favor of taking his face in his hands, gently, and kissing him something sweet before moving back and saying, “But not today, right, baby? Tonight you’re here with me, ready for your next lesson, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Reggie says with an enthusiastic nod. “I want to learn how to--” He takes a breath, his cheekbones growing ever pinker. 

“Go on, baby,” Caleb says, encouraging in words but impatient in tone. It does the trick.

“I want to learn how to really pleasure myself,” Reggie blurts out. He winces and blushes more, embarrassed by the words and his awkwardness. Caleb smiles and lets go of Reggie’s body, stepping back and causing Reggie to sway before catching himself. 

“Anything you want, baby,” Caleb says. “The better you know what you like, the better Daddy can give it to you.” Reggie nods, his hands clenching again at his sides, so uncomfortable on display like this. Caleb crooks his finger, turning away as he begins walking toward the couch. “Let’s start you on your knees in your usual spot. I’ll guide you through it.”

Reggie’s visits become more frequent then, more dependable in schedule. Twice a week, almost always, finds Reggie on his knees before Caleb, exploring his own body for Caleb to see. It’s fun to watch Reggie learn what he likes, what feels good, what doesn’t feel good, and what _can_ feel good if Caleb suggests it with the right words and intonation. Rubbing his hand high along his inner thigh makes Reggie sigh with satisfaction even if he hasn’t come yet. Teasing his nipples with alternating soft touches and sharp pinches makes him moan and gasp. Tightening his fingers a little around his throat - “There’s no need to worry about dying, after all,” Caleb points out, beginning to look a bit bored, “but if you don’t want to--” - makes him shudder all down his spine _and_ , with Caleb’s properly timed prompting, makes him spill into his fist.

Under Caleb’s instruction and watchful eye, Reggie jerks off slowly, savoring it like he never had the time or inclination to before now. He keeps going even after he’s come just because it still feels good, his hand so slick now, and because Caleb tells him to - “To test your limits, baby. Daddy wants to know what you’re capable of. Don’t you?” Once, he comes three times in under an hour without Caleb ever laying a finger on him, and then his dick still puts in a valiant effort to get hard again while he sucks Caleb’s cock.

In fairness, Caleb _does_ lay a finger on him, occasionally. Usually all five, even, when he does touch him, but the first time it happened, it was just his fingertip dragging up along the underside. Reggie shot off almost immediately, before Caleb ever reached the head of his cock, and wouldn’t stop apologizing until Caleb stuck his fingers, wet with come, into Reggie’s own mouth for him to suck and lick clean before pushing him to his knees.

Sometimes he lets Reggie jerk off while he’s got Caleb’s dick in his mouth, his hand moving slowly and evenly to keep from embarrassing himself, until Caleb says, “Let’s come together, baby. It’ll feel so good, coming at the same time - you’ll love it,” and then Reggie’s fist is moving fast, feverishly racing to get off at the exact moment between Caleb tugging hard on his hair and Caleb’s come first hitting his face. Sometimes he has Reggie take his cock out of his jeans and underwear but leave it untouched as he sucks him off, and Caleb loves looking down past the gorgeous stretch of Reggie’s lips around him to see Reggie thrusting his hips a little into nothing, just so his dick drags along the waistband of his boxer briefs, just for the bare minimum of relieving pressure. Sometimes he doesn’t let Reggie so much as unzip until Caleb’s finished with his mouth and face, and then Caleb sits back on the couch and watches as Reggie touches himself, the effect his silent appraisal has on Reggie making him feel more intoxicated than the Scotch in his glass.

Some nights he doesn’t let Reggie come at all. He has Reggie work himself up to the edge over and over again for hours but never crest it. Then he pulls Reggie up by the elbow and grabs him by the chin and kisses him, rough and biting, and keeps his face close so Reggie hears the gravel in his voice when he says, “I don’t want you to come tonight. Can you do that for me, baby? Go straight to your little studio and take a cold shower. Can I trust you to do that? Can you handle it, baby, without falling in with any willing thing on your way home?” 

“Yes, yes, I promise,” Reggie says, “I only want you.” Caleb kisses him again, fingers digging in at his jaw.

“Even more than a release?” he asks, practically hissing.

“Yes, yes,” Reggie nods frantically, and Caleb kisses him a third time before pushing him away with the hand gripping his chin, letting him stumble for half a second and grabbing him again by the wrist, pulling him back flush against him with his hand at the curve of Reggie’s lower back. Reggie shivers in the disorientation and Caleb leans in to graze the kid’s earlobe with his teeth.

“That’s why you’re Daddy’s favorite.”

Caleb waits three months before calmly presenting Reggie with a couple toys. Reggie’s been on edge for the better part of an hour but he still has just enough wherewithal to blink at what’s on the coffee table and widen his eyes and say, “I’m, um--I’m not sure about your rich people sex dungeon toys.” Caleb gives him an unimpressed look, but he’s smiling - affectionately, to show Reggie he’s not angry, just disappointed. Reggie frowns.

“Don’t you trust me, baby? I thought I’d proven myself to you by now,” Caleb says. He sits back on the sofa and beckons Reggie to him, raising his eyebrows. “I’m not going to _beat_ you, Reggie. Come sit beside me and let’s talk about it.” Reggie does, shifting close to Caleb despite his obvious anxiety. Caleb brings him in with an arm around his shoulders and reaches for the flogger on the table. 

“Here, feel how soft the leather is.” He takes Reggie’s hand and runs the black tails of the flogger over his palm. Reggie inhales, surprised, and grabs at them with his fingers. “Think of how good that’ll feel on your skin, baby.”

“But--it still hurts when it, like, hits you, right?” Reggie asks quietly. 

“I’m not going to hit you with it,” says Caleb, running the tails over Reggie’s hand again and giving him a significant look. 

“Ohhh,” Reggie says, eyes widening as it dawns on him. “On my--?” Caleb nods. Reggie blushes, his eyes going slightly out of focus as he imagines it. “That...that would feel nice.” He blinks then and bites his lip. “So...are you gonna hit me with that one instead?” Caleb follows his gaze to the table and hums. Putting the handle of the flogger in Reggie’s hand, Caleb leans forward and picks up the riding crop, twisting it around in his fingers.

“I was never going to hit you with anything, baby, but….” He makes a face like he’s weighing his options before sighing dramatically. “Nah. I won’t be using this one on you after all.”

“Oh. Why?” Reggie asks. “Is it--did I do something--or--is it because I said I wasn’t sure? Because I could--I could--” Caleb smiles to himself, careful to school it away into something soft before he turns to look at Reggie again. 

“I was planning on using it on your nipples - I know you like a little pinch there,” he explains. Twirling the crop closer to Reggie’s chest, he lets the leather tongue of it fall against his thin t-shirt, making Reggie jump, his face going red. “This would provide a similar but different sensation, naturally - a slap rather than a pinch - but, now that I’ve got you here with me and I’m thinking about it, I believe the material would be too hard on your nipples. They’re so sensitive, baby, and Daddy doesn’t want to cause you any real pain.”

He could wave his hand and disappear the crop, but he sets it on the table again instead, in Reggie’s full view. Reggie swallows, clutching the handle of the flogger tightly. His mouth twitches around a frown; his eyes keep narrowing at the riding crop before glancing away. Caleb allows himself another small smile that Reggie can’t see. The crop was always barely more than a prop, a tool to convince Reggie he can be trusted with implements that scare him. Presenting two toys, then taking one away as if he’d thought better of it because he _cares_ for Reggie, is a tried and true technique to further establish a trust bond, _and_ has the added bonus of putting an image into Reggie’s head, one he’ll give in on later like it’s a compromise, like he’s giving _Caleb_ something.

Caleb couldn’t give a damn about using the riding crop on Reggie’s nipples. He has his own image in mind, a very specific one that requires the crop, and when Reggie says he wants him to use it later after all, he really _will_ be giving Caleb something.

Reggie shudders when Caleb asks him to keep his hands behind his back. They’ve done this before, a few times, and it’s always taken Reggie a few minutes to fall into it, to get over his nerves, but tonight he clasps his hands over the opposite wrists as soon as his knees hit the floor, rolls his shoulders back, and stills. Caleb stands in front of Reggie and puts one hand on the back of Reggie’s head and the other on his shoulder, holding him in place as he fucks his throat. He steps away before he comes and strokes the tails of the flogger up and down Reggie’s cock, watches him shake and strain to steady his hands behind him, and then Reggie says, breathless but unequivocal, “I want you to use the riding crop - not for--no, um, no slapping, please, but--just--touching?”

“Anything you want, baby,” says Caleb, leaning down to retrieve the crop Reggie’s eyes have kept wandering back to this whole time. True to his word, he doesn’t use it with force at all, just grazes Reggie’s nipples with it, teasing with inconsistent timing and pressure. Reggie’s shoulders tremble, his breathing going harsh and uneven. He’s been so good tonight, gone along so well with Caleb’s plan, and Caleb’s feeling more generous than usual, so he taps the crop very gently along Reggie’s collarbone and asks, “When do you want to come? Your choice tonight.”

“After you,” Reggie says instantly. “I want to come after you, and I--I want you to come on my face.” Caleb holds in an all-out grin and merely nods contentedly instead.

“Anything you want, baby,” he says, stroking himself with a sure, efficient hand. “My baby gets _anything_ he wants.” Reggie practically glows at his feet, like a pretty evening primrose blooming under the moonlight, and a minute later, Caleb gets what he wanted: the image of Reggie, head tipped up with the riding crop under his chin, Caleb’s come on his face. 

“Thank you,” Reggie says, with no prompting whatsoever. Caleb grips the crop so tight his knuckles turn white before making it disappear and dropping back onto the sofa, nodding at Reggie unceremoniously, telling him to tend to his own dick.

More than once, on a few of the nights Caleb decides to be more merciful with Reggie and has him get off only one time before seeing to Caleb, he has Reggie kneeling in his usual spot on the couch beside him. Reggie has his head in Caleb’s lap, sucking his cock so well after learning so much, while Caleb rubs his hand across his bare shoulders and down his spine as he thrusts up into his mouth. His hand travels down to the sweet little dip in Reggie’s lower back and the tantalizing curve of his ass, spread open a little from the angle. It’s overdue and too tempting to pass up, and so he doesn’t, takes the opportunity to slip his fingers in the cleft of Reggie’s ass, rub his hand over Reggie’s hole. It’s nothing too far too soon - just a tease, just enough to send a thrill through Reggie’s body, just enough to get him thinking about it - but the first time he presses the tip of his pinky finger there, he feels Reggie whimper around his cock, and tilts his head up, resting it on the back of the sofa and smiling to himself again.

Every once in awhile, something cruel twists in Caleb’s gut, and he gets an urge to ask Reggie what his friends think he’s doing all these nights he’s at Caleb’s club, in Caleb’s dressing room, on his knees for the guy who would’ve been happy to send all of them careening into nothingness if this sweet thing hadn’t shown up after hours less than a week after they rejected his offer. He’s pretty certain it’s a make or break question, though, too risky to bring them up and remind him of the loyalties he still insists on clinging to when he walks out of here after their sordid visits. Caleb’s not done with Reggie yet, so he’ll save that line of questioning for now. He’ll save it for when he’s growing a tad tired of him, when he’s gotten to the point where he could take or leave him. One of these days Reggie will either leave and never come back to the club, or he’ll show up after hours as usual and want to stay forever, and Caleb can’t wait to find out which one it’s going to be, as long as it’s long after Caleb’s been _fucking_ him.

Caleb is unbuttoning his cufflinks when Reggie arrives upstairs. He keeps his back to the door, to Reggie, and shifts further into the warm light of the vanity bulbs, focusing on his task. He’s ignoring his reflection for once, content with the knowledge of exactly what he looks like right now, exactly the effect this type of picture has on a boy like Reggie, on Reggie specifically. He locks the cufflinks away in the little jewelry box on the table and finally looks up into the mirror to take in the sight behind him of Reggie, face flushed from getting caught staring at Caleb, anxiously shifting his weight from one foot to another. Caleb raises his eyebrows, pouting indulgently.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks, although he has a good idea of what it is. Reggie frowns and walks closer to him before speaking.

“I overheard a couple of your assistants talking earlier tonight,” he says, keeping his voice low. “They were saying something about the club having, um, financial trouble?” Caleb purses his lips and hums in evident displeasure. 

“They must have been eavesdropping themselves,” he says darkly, but it’s all a show, orchestrated to the last detail, and those two assistants might have just earned a little holiday bonus.

“But--is it really bad?” Reggie asks. “I mean, bad enough to be worrying you? How can that even happen? The Hollywood Ghost Club is, like, mega famous and international, right?” Caleb tilts his head to the side and raises one eyebrow. Reggie takes a step back.

“Well,” Caleb says, drawing it out as he turns toward Reggie with a frighteningly fake pleasant expression, “word gets around the ghost world. You’d be surprised how quickly news travels among the dead, Reggie. When people heard that my illustrious new house band actually had the nerve to turn down my extremely generous offer, profits were bound to suffer.” He drops the act then - or, at least, the top layer of it - and gives Reggie a bright smile. “But of course I don’t blame _you_ , baby. You were just going along with it. That’s the problem with band decisions: you can’t make the choice for yourself.” 

“Is there anything I can do?” Reggie asks. Then, in a display of boldness that shines out of him sometimes like sunlight, that Caleb’s always happy and quick to stamp out, he steps closer to Caleb again, widening his eyes and biting his lip, playing coy, and says, “You could fuck me.” Caleb says nothing, doesn’t move, doesn’t smirk, doesn’t even raise an eyebrow again. Reggie swallows. “I’ve been thinking about it,” he continues, his voice more tentative now, his light a little dimmer, “and I--I want you to. I want you to fuck me.”

“Baby,” Caleb says, his voice dripping with condescension, “do you really think your virginity is valuable enough to make up for the financial loss I’ve been dealing with for the past nine months?” Reggie blushes a deep shade of blotchy red all down his neck. He looks away, down, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Caleb smiles and walks to him, reaching out both hands to cup Reggie’s face, lift his chin until their eyes meet. 

“Hey, hey,” Caleb says softly, soothingly, “ _I_ do, baby. What could be more valuable to me than you wanting to give Daddy everything, hmm?” Reggie smiles, small and hesitant, but his eyes brighten a little, and once Caleb’s leaned forward to give Reggie a kiss on his forehead, on his cheek, on his lips, Reggie’s flushed with pleasure, sheepish, embarrassed by his own embarrassment. Caleb clicks his tongue. “But the unfortunate fact is that, even after making love to you, baby, I’d still have this pesky money problem.”

“I want to help,” Reggie says, eager and earnest. “What can I do? There must be something. I don’t want you to be, like, worrying about this when you’re--when we’re, uh, making love--you know? I’ve heard this kind of stress can cause, you know, performance issues.” Caleb raises an eyebrow, a smile playing on his lips, thoroughly amused. 

“You think I’ll have a problem staying, ah, _interested_ in you, baby?” he asks, moving one hand down to grope Reggie’s ass. Reggie gasps, his eyes going half-lidded. Caleb leans in and plants a peck of a kiss on the tip of Reggie’s nose. “As tight and sweet as you’re going to be for me?” He kisses Reggie again, for real, open and deep and full of heat this time, and when he pulls away, Reggie looks dazed. Caleb steps away then, goes back to the vanity to pick up his nail file, watching in the mirror out of the corner of his eye as Reggie lifts his hand to his lips before drifting it absently down to his neck.

“Of course, you do make an excellent point,” Caleb says, snapping Reggie out of his haze.

“I do?” he asks. Caleb meets his eyes in the reflection and smiles.

“You do,” he confirms. “Some degree of windfall would take a weight off, and I’d hate to not be totally present for your first time - for _our_ first time.” He frowns, taking on a resigned look. “I just don’t know what could be done on your end, though,” he says, and then he rakes his eyes over Reggie, up and down, and smirks. “I’ve missed you these past few nights, you know. You look so damn pretty jerking off for me. I’d _pay_ to see it, if you didn’t so generously give me the privilege for free.”

He goes back to filing his nails. In the reflection of the mirror before him, dawn rises on Reggie’s face, like the idea is entirely his own.

\---

Caleb doesn’t tell Reggie it’s a test. 

He doesn’t tell him the small crowd chattering away out beyond the wings is entirely fake. He doesn’t tell him the applause he’ll hear isn’t real. He doesn’t tell him it’s just the two of them in an empty club, that even his assistants aren’t here right now, that the real party is happening elsewhere tonight. It _could_ all be real, and that’s really what matters, isn’t it? It _could_ all be real, and there’s no point in advertising for an event that Reggie might chicken out of in the end.

“How many are there?” Reggie asks, fidgeting with the belt of his red silk robe. It’s the only thing he’s wearing - Caleb got him out of his clothes the minute he arrived upstairs - and for all his nerves and trepidation, Caleb can still see the tent his erection is making in the robe, the wet stain at the tip beginning to seep through the thin fabric. He might have to use that later, if Reggie needs more convincing, evidence that he obviously liked this, but otherwise the robe itself is more or less useless after tonight. The belt, though, Caleb makes a mental note to keep. He’ll tie Reggie’s hands behind his back with it at some point, or maybe he’ll tie up Reggie’s cock so pretty like a present just for him one day, but first--

“About twenty,” Caleb says, peeking around the curtains and bouncing on his heels with the same excitement he displays every night before a performance. Fully decked out in his black and purple suit, sans only the cape, he wishes there was a mirror around so he could see the picture they paint - cool, poised confidence and power next to shaking, anxious vulnerability. He _knows_ what it looks like already, of course, but he just wants to _see_ it.

“That’s all? I thought--I thought I’d-- _it_ would be a bigger draw,” Reggie says nervously. Caleb turns to him, reassurance and affection all over his face as he reaches out and cradles Reggie’s in his hands.

“I didn’t want to overwhelm you, baby,” he says. “Tonight is invitation only and these select few paid a pretty penny to have a more, ah, private show from you. There’s no worry about getting a bad seat when everyone fits right in the front row, you see, and after this, there’s no worry about my debts either.” Reggie nods in understanding, his insecurity assuaged, and takes a deep breath. Caleb strokes his thumb over Reggie’s cheekbone and watches the kid’s eyelids flutter at the gentle touch. “You still want to do this, right, baby?”

“Yeah, I do,” Reggie says. Caleb stops touching him, drops his hands from Reggie’s face, and raises an eyebrow. 

“I need to hear all the words, Reggie,” he says, voice stern and devoid of feeling, but Reggie’s already rushing to say it.

“I want to jerk off for an audience--for _your_ audience.” Caleb looks away, bored.

“ _Why_ , Reggie?”

“I want to jerk off for an audience--an audience you invited--because I want to help you with the club’s money problems and--and these people paid, um, to see me--to see me jerk off,” Reggie says, biting his lip and furrowing his brow, trying to remember if he’s covered everything. Caleb smiles at him and steps into his space so Reggie will look up at him and see it. Reggie beams.

“Anything you want, baby,” Caleb says. Reggie sways forward a little, rocks up on his tiptoes like a child waiting for a kiss, which is probably an accurate comparison. Caleb considers pushing him against the wall and making out with him for a minute just to get him really going, but he doesn’t want the kid to shoot off with no preamble once he’s on stage. The fake audience paid fake money to see a real show, after all.

“Remember everything I taught you about how to touch yourself,” he says instead. Reggie nods again, eyes never straying from Caleb’s even as he rocks back down to the heels of his feet, his expectations dwindling. “Your nipples, your neck, your thighs - tease yourself and you’re teasing your audience, too, which is what they want. They’re not here to see you jerk it with no fanfare. They could watch any random twink on the Internet for that. What they paid for is a show - they paid _handsomely_ to see _you_ , my dear Reggie, put on a show for them.” He leans down and kisses Reggie’s forehead before tipping his face up, finger under his chin. “Don’t let me down, baby.”

“I--I won’t, Caleb,” Reggie says. He licks his lips, eyes darting briefly to the brightly lit stage just feet away from the shadows of the wings before looking back up at Caleb, wide-eyed. “And then, after this, you’ll--we’ll--we’ll make love?” Caleb smiles and looks Reggie up and down, snaking his arm around to squeeze his ass. Reggie lets out a little yelp as Caleb pulls him closer.

“Tell you what, baby,” Caleb says, low and tempting. “You bring in some revenue for Daddy, and I’ll take good care of you.” Reggie swallows.

“O--okay.” Caleb smirks and pats the side of Reggie’s face with his hand before moving away, adjusting his tie as he turns toward the stage. 

“Oh, and Reggie?” he adds as an afterthought, casting a look over his shoulder as he begins to walk out of the wing into the light. “When you start to come, let go of your cock, okay? Let them see you come all over yourself.” He winks at the way Reggie blushes, mottled pink high on his cheeks, and then the crowd that isn’t really there at all is cheering for his entrance.

“Thank you all for being here tonight,” Caleb exclaims into a microphone, looking out into the audience. If he squints, he can see through his own magic into the empty house seats, but Reggie would never be able to even if he wasn’t hopped up on nerves and the promise of sex and the all-consuming need to make Caleb happy. He leans into the mic again. “Thank you all for coming to see my sweet young ingénue in his very first performance of this kind.” There’s plenty of clapping and a loud whistle, a few mild catcalls. Caleb smirks, imagining what the reception is doing to Reggie.

“I assure you, you won’t regret spending big tonight,” he continues. “My baby puts on quite a show. Now, please, give a warm welcome to Reggie!” Dutiful applause erupts as Reggie steps onto the stage, the spotlight following him and glittering off his robe until he reaches Caleb at downstage center. After disappearing the mic with a wave of his hand, Caleb nods at Reggie expectantly and he unties the belt with trembling hands, letting the robe slowly fall open. Two more whistles, another few slightly less tame catcalls that make Reggie’s blush spread down his neck as Caleb stands behind him and helps him out of his robe.

“I’ll be just in the wing if you need me,” he says reassuringly, reaching out to give Reggie’s bare shoulder a squeeze before walking off the stage, waving to the small crowd as he goes. 

Reggie is already on his knees by the time Caleb gets to the wing and turns back around. The audience’s reception has quieted, and Caleb can see the kid shaking all the way from here, but he looks damn good with the spotlight shining down on him. Caleb licks his lips at the sight, and Reggie glances his way, hesitation in his eyes. All it takes is a single nod from Caleb for Reggie to steel himself and start the show. He leans back on his heels and Caleb is pleased to see that his small worry about Reggie’s erection flagging as a response to performance anxiety was completely unfounded. His dick is still rock hard, standing proudly against his stomach, and he seems to actually be getting off on the attention from the audience. Caleb files that bit of information away to take advantage of later and focuses on keeping the fake audience engaged with Reggie’s show.

Truthfully, it’s not difficult. Reggie is putting on a _good_ show. Every stir made by someone watching him sends a shiver up his spine - the kind that would only be noticeable to Caleb even if the audience was real - and he responds to it like a true performer, repeating a movement that caused the reaction, or leaning into it further with his own. He gets more vocal as the minutes tick by, and more brazen, looking out into the crowd and biting his lip, fucking up into his fist a few times before going back to skimming his hand up his own thigh. It may have taken months, but Caleb taught the kid _well_. 

Caleb’s eyes find the clock high up toward the ceiling the moment he recognizes Reggie approaching orgasm. It’s been over just forty-five minutes, and Reggie’s managed fifty-three minutes of this sort of thing without coming before, but this is for an audience, as far as he knows, and he’s more than earned the money that’ll be going to Caleb’s pockets, as far as he knows, so Caleb has no problem allowing it, even encouraging it. There’s almost no effort required for one fake person in the fake crowd to loudly whisper to her friend that she thinks Reggie’s about to come, and Reggie inhales sharply, his shoulders tensing.

“Caleb,” he calls, voice shaking. He sounds like he’s been snapped back into a reality he doesn’t like from some fantasy world, and Caleb realizes that, between the house lights being down and making any pretend audience basically invisible, and Reggie’s eyes being almost always shut since the minute he hit his knees, the kid must have been imagining it being just the two of them. Responding to the audience, yes, but with his mind working overtime to make it all sound like only Caleb. It’s rich to think about - Caleb has never been anywhere near _that_ responsive to him, which means there’s obviously some wishful thinking at work there - but shit, maybe Caleb should call him a slut once in awhile just to see what it does to him. 

“ _Caleb_ ,” Reggie calls again, louder, and this time cut off with a moan as his hand speeds up around his cock. He looks around, like he’s trying to get his bearings, and when he finally snaps his gaze to the wing, his eyes are wide and a little bit fearful. “Caleb?”

When Caleb only raises an eyebrow, refusing to move, he’s not intending for anything except to prompt Reggie to use his goddamn words. A simple _"I want to stop"_ or _"I want you over here"_ or _"I want you to give me permission to come because suddenly this is too real and I'm freaking out"_ would have sufficed. Caleb doesn’t want to traumatize the kid tonight, or else the game will likely be over, and he _has_ to straightforwardly fulfill his promises _sometimes_. A single _”I want”_ statement from Reggie would’ve done it, but when Caleb maintains eye contact and makes an elegant, sweeping gesture with one hand for him to see - a prompt, a reminder - he doesn’t say he wants anything.

He says, “ _Daddy_ ,” and comes.

Caleb is beside him in a flash, petting Reggie’s hair and watching his hand flail and grip hard at his thigh, having let go of his cock just like Caleb told him. Caleb sends up a round of applause and cheers from the fake crowd as Reggie’s chest and stomach and thighs are painted with his own come. He thinks Reggie might start crying, beg to be taken backstage immediately, so he turns to where the audience would be, microphone magically in hand again, and opens his mouth to thank them again for being here, but then there’s a sudden warm pressure on his dick.

He looks down to see Reggie mouthing at his hard cock through his pants, eyes closed, tilting his head up into Caleb’s palm to maintain their contact. Caleb’s fingers tighten in Reggie’s hair and he tugs harshly, making Reggie gasp and look up at him with wide, watery eyes. An intrigued hush falls over the audience. Reggie shudders and inches closer to Caleb on his knees.

“Please,” Reggie says in a small voice. “You haven’t come yet. Let me--I want to suck you off.” Caleb glances down and notices Reggie’s own cock still hard, his hand back on it, stroking lightly, hesitant, ready to stop if Caleb says no. He meets Reggie’s eyes again and smiles down at him before turning to the audience, raising the mic to his mouth.

“You just can’t beat the stamina of a seventeen-year-old, can you?” he says with a smirk. The crowd laughs, and there’s another whistle or two, and when Caleb looks down at Reggie again, the kid is blushing and ducking his head, but he’s jerking himself faster, his hand surer. Caleb takes hold of Reggie’s jaw, with just enough grip to fall outside of what qualifies as gentle, and makes him look up once more, their eyes meeting. “Say it again into the mic, baby,” he says quietly, holding it level with Reggie’s mouth. “We all need to hear it, to know it’s consensual.” Reggie licks his lips, swallows, and turns his head toward the microphone, his eyes never leaving Caleb’s.

“I want to suck you off,” he says. There are a few sharp inhales from the audience, a soft moan. Reggie squeezes his eyes shut for a split second before opening them again, pupils dilated a little more than before. Caleb smiles with one corner of his mouth, just this side of devious, knowing full well that Reggie is too far gone right now to notice.

“Anything you want, baby,” Caleb says into the mic, before making it disappear with a flick of his wrist. He nods down at Reggie’s cock, the head already wet with pre-come, and jerks hard at his hair again. “I’ll come in your mouth this time, but you save your second round for Daddy.” Reggie nods eagerly, and then, satisfied with the kid’s understanding, Caleb pulls himself free from his pants and tugs Reggie forward.

Afterward, when the house lights are up and the fake crowd is leaving and Reggie is following Caleb upstairs, tying his robe closed again with shaking hands, Caleb feels a bit drunk with power in a half-delirious sort of way he hasn’t experienced in years. He could have Reggie right now, tonight, if he wanted to skip ahead. He could bend Reggie over the back of the couch and make him come with just Caleb’s fingers inside him, could fuck him like that, pull his hair and leave a handprint on his ass and bruises on his hips and tell him what a good boy he is, demand Reggie call him _Daddy_ again and again until his voice is hoarse and his hole is full of come. Reggie would let him. Reggie would say he _wants_ it.

Caleb _could_ , but he won’t. He’ll get to do all of that later, eventually. It’s a long game for a reason, and he risks not getting what he _really_ wants if he skips ahead. 

“You were right,” Reggie is saying as Caleb stands before the vanity, removing his cufflinks. “About, you know, what you said that night we played here, as your band. You really _can_ soak in the applause as long as you want.” Caleb lifts his gaze to Reggie in the mirror, smiles to himself at the dazed, faraway look in the kid’s big eyes. “That connection with the audience….” Reggie swallows, his hand going to the exposed skin of his chest. “It’s incredible. Unreal.” Caleb almost laughs at that.

“Just wait until next time,” he says, locking the cufflinks away. “Next time, it’ll be even better.” Reggie blinks and looks over at him, meeting his eyes in the reflection.

“Next time?” he asks. Caleb grins at him and spins around.

“Tonight was just a preview, Reggie. This’ll get people talking, get the word out about you and how pretty you are, what a good show you put on,” he says, approaching Reggie with excitement. “This was just paying off my debts. No real revenue came in tonight, baby, and you remember what I said.” Reggie nods slowly, jerkily, frowning.

“Oh. Right,” he says, brow furrowed slightly. Caleb puts his hands on Reggie’s shoulders and gives him a soft look.

“But, of course, if you don’t want to do it again--”

“No, no, I want to!” Reggie’s quick to say, eyes going wide again. “I want to--to put on another show and--bring in revenue for you.” Caleb smiles and leans in to give him a quick kiss on the lips.

“Anything you want, baby.” He turns away, loosening his tie, and begins walking toward the couch. Reggie follows him, even catches the tie when Caleb tosses it back to him, and Caleb knows without looking that Reggie’s standing up on his tiptoes to hang it over the side of the vanity mirror. This is a practiced routine they have by now: Caleb winds down from a party, Reggie dogs his steps and cleans up after him, proving himself useful enough to deserve praise, and then he gets down on his knees while Caleb nurses a drink, blows Caleb and jerks himself off. There’s some variance in the last parts, but otherwise it’s more or less the same with every visit. Tonight’s already been different, though - Reggie never sees Caleb as early in the evening, to begin with - and Caleb passes by the bar without pausing.

“Reggie, please pour me my drink tonight,” he says sweetly. He doesn’t bother looking back to check that it’s being done; he knows even before he hears any glass clinking that the kid’s going to do it. He sits down on the sofa and takes in the sight of Reggie following orders, that red silk robe loose around his shoulders and ending high on his pale thighs. Caleb glances down at the shoes on his own feet and hums softly in consideration before looking back up, deciding against testing to see how far Reggie’s obedience will go tonight. Someday he’ll have Reggie undress him one article of clothing at a time, and really impress upon him what a privilege it is to do so, how lucky Reggie is that Caleb chose him for it, but this isn’t the time.

“Hey, Caleb? What does ‘ingénue’ mean?” Reggie asks as he hands Caleb a glass of Scotch. Caleb takes a long and looks up at Reggie standing before him, his bright eyes round and curious and following the dip in Caleb’s throat as he swallows. “Is it French for, like, ‘boyfriend’ or something like that?”

Caleb thinks of every film he’s ever seen featuring an innocent, doe-eyed actress beguiled and taken advantage of by a devilishly handsome cad. He smiles charmingly up at Reggie as he leans forward, holding the glass up for Reggie to take again.

“It means, baby, that you’re Daddy’s very favorite,” Caleb says, low and smooth, sending a shiver over Reggie, making him blush and smile fondly as Caleb begins rolling up his sleeves.

“Really?” he asks, clutching the drink with both hands like he’s afraid to spill or drop it. “Like, of all time? Ever?” Caleb only looks back up at him when his sleeves are rolled up neatly to his elbows.

“Of all time, baby,” he confirms, retrieving the Scotch from Reggie’s hands and leaning back into the couch. He nods toward Reggie’s cock, hard under the robe again, _still_. “Now, let’s take care of that second round, shall we? I’ll have the robe, and you get on your back for me this time. Tell me, baby, have you ever fingered yourself?”

\---

It’s all real this time: the audience here to see Reggie, the money flowing in, the palpable sense of twisted delight Caleb feels as he meanders through the crowd before the show. There are considerably more than twenty people here, all of them enjoying champagne and hors d’oeuvres while the enormous clock above them ticks toward the main event. Caleb walks through the crowd with Reggie on his arm, showing him off and letting himself get caught looking at him adoringly, knowing how well it’ll pay off later tonight. He’s allowed Reggie to wear boxer briefs under the red silk robe for this pre-show hour, but that doesn’t do anything to hide how brightly flushed his skin goes all the way down his chest every time Caleb introduces him to attendees as _”this evening’s entertainment”_ and lets his hand travel lower on his back. Reggie squirms in shame and pride with each introduction, preening and blushing under the appraising lustful eyes of the attendees, one hand clutching tightly around a bottle of New Coke.

Reggie’s show is essentially the same as the first one - Caleb told him before there’d be no repeat customers so he didn’t have to worry his pretty little head about doing anything new, and Reggie nodded and turned bright red at the word _”customers”_ \- but this time he really does seem to be glowing with the audience’s reactions to him. Caleb is sure, what with the kid’s eyes still being shut, that some part of him is imagining he’s upstairs and it’s just the two of them again, but Reggie can’t hide that he’s responding to every encouraging sound and coaxing mutter from the crowd. Honestly, Caleb really is proud of him, and not least because this gives him an easy excuse to twist into jealousy later on, a motivation even Reggie can understand for a stern tone, an abrupt chill in affection. Reggie will have to make it up to him at his next visit, prove once again that he only wants Caleb, and that will be so, _so_ much sweeter after tonight.

There’s a loud collective gasp in the crowd when Reggie calls for Daddy this time, and when Caleb is at his side while he mouths at his cock, Caleb twirls the microphone in his hand and pets his hair and says softly, just loud enough for only Reggie to hear, “Do you think the audience wants to see me come on your face tonight, baby?” Reggie inhales sharply, wide eyes snapping up to Caleb’s smirking face. “Should I ask them?” Reggie swallows. Caleb turns his head to the audience and raises the mic to his mouth.

“He puts on a great show, doesn’t he?” Caleb smiles at the affirmations from the crowd and raises his eyebrow at them. “He’s not finished, though. Do you all want to see his pretty face dripping with my come?” The audience erupts into applause and cheers, and at Caleb’s feet, a shudder shakes through Reggie’s body.

“Please, yeah,” he says, his breath warm on Caleb’s cock, even through his pants. “I want that.” Caleb looks down at him, running his fingers through his hair, and speaks into the mic again.

“Say it into the microphone, baby, so everyone can hear it,” he says. “You don’t want anyone thinking I’m taking advantage of you, do you? Making you do something you don’t want to do? They need to hear it just like I do.” He holds the mic down to Reggie, who leans in close, his lips brushing against it.

“I want to suck your cock, and I want you to come on my face,” he says. An audience member lets out a loud whistle, more cheering resounding through the club, but Caleb doesn’t take his darkened gaze off Reggie’s blushing face, and doesn’t take the microphone away from his mouth. Reggie bites his lip before leaning in again. “I want you to come on my face, Daddy.”

“Well, what kind of Daddy would I be if I didn’t give my baby _exactly_ what he wants--” Caleb says into the microphone, above the renewed audience reaction, “--especially when he’s being _so_ well-behaved for me and all of you?” With another twirl of his wrist, the mic vanishes, and he looks down at Reggie again as he unzips his pants. “You can come again this time, baby. I don’t want you worrying about restraining yourself while you’re soaking in the applause. I can see how it makes you feel a little drunk.” Reggie blinks up at him with genuine innocent confusion, vaguely furrowing his brow, but then he opens his mouth for Caleb’s cock and his focus shifts entirely to pleasing him, to impressing the audience.

It takes only a minute or so before someone in the crowd speaks up, not encouraging words for Reggie, but a question for Caleb: “How deep can he take it?”

Caleb watches Reggie’s eyes fly open, his hand tightening around the base of his cock. He smiles down at him, noting the way he reacts to being spoken about like he’s not there, to the objectification, as fairly mild as it is. Caleb doesn’t bother pulling the microphone from thin air again, simply raises his voice as he turns to the audience.

“My baby’s learned very well. He can take it all,” he says, tugging at Reggie’s hair, and Reggie does, his efforts and enthusiasm immediately doubling. He’s keen to show off, to make Caleb look good, and when Caleb holds his head in place and begins fucking his throat, Reggie takes it like a pro, like every night up in Caleb’s dressing room was practice - _training_. Reggie comes for a second time just before Caleb does. He does look rather drunk as Caleb turns his head to face the audience so they can see what a gorgeous mess he’s made of Reggie’s sweet face, their applause and cheers peppered with lewd remarks about leaving tips at the door and how far Reggie will go during the next show, if there is one. Caleb snaps his fingers and his assistants begin filing people toward the exit, the house lights coming up as the spotlights dim, and Reggie tips his head up to look at Caleb.

“Is there gonna be a next show?” he asks, not even wincing at the hoarseness of his voice.

“Only if you want there to be, baby,” Caleb answers, all soothing reassurance, knowing Reggie _will_ want that, eventually.

“But--not before--I mean, you’ll--you won’t make me wait, will you?” Reggie asks. “To--to--”

“To take you to bed?” Caleb finishes for him. Reggie swallows and nods. “Why waste the rest of the night? Daddy made you a promise. You turned a profit for me and I plan on rewarding you right now. Come on, baby, follow me.”

Reggie’s wobbly on his legs as he follows Caleb upstairs, hugging the robe around himself, looking halfway wrecked already. Full awareness has returned to his eyes but there’s still come on his face when Caleb turns to him, looks him up and down, and licks his lips. Reggie blushes blotchy pink down his neck and chest, shrugging the robe off in wordless obedience when Caleb nods at him. Caleb lets out a soft groan and bites back a smirk at the way the sound has Reggie’s cock hardening again.

“Oh, Reggie, _baby_ , you are the prettiest thing I’ve had in my bed in _decades_ ,” Caleb says in a whisper, his tone intimate and cherishing and putting a sweet smile on Reggie’s face, his big eyes brightening under the affection. Then a bed materializes against the wall opposite the vanity, brought into being by a mere snap of Caleb’s fingers, and Reggie’s gaze snaps to it, his face falling into disappointment that he instantly tries to hide, but Caleb’s already turning away from him, starting to undress. It’s obvious that Reggie expected this to happen somewhere more private, just the two of them, but Caleb doesn’t need a stray puppy following him home - not yet - and it’s been just a little too long now since Reggie had a reminder that Caleb is not his boyfriend.

He puts Reggie on his hands and knees, dismissing his soft spoken request to be on his back so he can see Caleb’s face by framing this position as more comfortable for beginners. It makes Reggie’s face flush as he turns over, resting his head on his arms. Caleb has no plans to make this romantic, but that doesn’t mean Reggie is going to stop looking at it through that lens after all this leadup, and unless Caleb actually hurts him, the kid will still see everything he does to him tonight as _making love_. 

It’s a delicate balance - using Reggie’s first time to send a message that he shouldn’t for a second be so delusional as to think Caleb’s in love with him, oh, but he _could_ be, if only Reggie tries hard enough - but Caleb is an expert in this kind of tightrope manipulation, and as challenging as the game is at this stage, Reggie himself is easier than ever.

“Oh, you’re gonna feel so good around my cock, baby,” Caleb says as he slips one finger inside Reggie, who whines at the sensation. “I know, I know - my fingers can reach deeper than yours, hmm? It’s never the same, fingering yourself. The angle just isn’t quite right. I’ve gotta get you ready, though, baby. Just take a few deep breaths.” He rubs his free hand up Reggie’s spine, feeling his body go calmer under his touch, and squeezes lightly at the back of his neck as he adds a second finger.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Reggie mutters, pressing his forehead hard against his forearms.

“You’ll need to relax more if you want my cock inside you,” Caleb says. Reggie shudders and nods, taking a few more deep breaths as Caleb works his fingers in and out of him. He adds more lube every few minutes, likes the way the renewed slickness makes Reggie’s whole body tremble and brings out a surprised moan every time. Caleb continues with two fingers - a third and Reggie wouldn’t be able to feel the stretch when Caleb enters him, and Caleb _wants_ him to feel it, to learn to love that feeling, to want to chase it - until Reggie is pushing back against him, whining and begging for the real thing.

“I want you to-- _ah_ \--I want you to--to make love to me, to _fuck_ me--please, Caleb,” Reggie says, with no prompting whatsoever to use his words. Caleb smiles down at his back, eyeing the dimples just above the curve of his ass, and slips his fingers out, wiping them unceremoniously on the satin sheets. 

“Anything you want, baby,” he says, and uses both hands to spread Reggie open, making Reggie’s knees slide further apart on the sheets. Caleb pulls him up a little by his hips, positions himself at Reggie’s entrance, and waits the agonizing eight seconds for Reggie to push back again, to start to speak, before pushing inside.

Reggie gasps and falls silent as Caleb enters him in one smooth, slow stroke, hand splayed across his lower back just above where his cock is sliding inside him. Reggie is breathing loudly through his nose, and Caleb doesn’t have to be looking at his face to know how hard he’s biting his lip and wrenching his eyes closed. Caleb keeps his own eyes open, entranced by the sight of his cock entering this impossibly tight boy under him, one major payoff of all the work he’s put toward a goal over these last several months. Reggie whimpers at the last couple of inches, arms flailing out so he can grab hold of the sheets, but he takes all of Caleb’s dick inside him, and only then does Caleb let his eyes drift shut, allowing himself a minute to get lost in the feeling of tight heat around him while Reggie adjusts.

“You make Daddy feel so damn good, baby,” Caleb says, pressing his thumbs into the dimples of Reggie’s lower back. Reggie lets out another whimper and gasps loudly when Caleb rolls his hips forward without pulling out, effectively just pushing him further into the bed.

“Is--” Reggie starts, voice thick and shaking, “is it normal for--am I doing something wrong?” Caleb knows exactly what Reggie’s talking about, but he wants to make him say it, so he grips tighter at his hips and hums.

“What do you mean, Reggie? Use your words.”

“I’m--I’m not hard anymore,” Reggie says, sounding almost tearful. “But I--I want this--I want you to--” Caleb rubs his hand up and down Reggie’s back again.

“That’s normal, baby, it’s okay,” he says in a soothing voice. “Don’t even worry about it. Just breathe and let Daddy make you feel good. You’ll be hard again for me in no time.”

“Really? You can do that? Just--just fuck me hard again?” Reggie asks, lifting his head and glancing over his shoulder. Caleb grins at him and gives his hips another squeeze.

“You have no idea all the things I can do to you, baby,” he says. Reggie’s face flushes deeper, but his round eyes reveal a hint of excitement, a thrill of desire. “You’re going to love it,” Caleb adds with a wink before slowly pulling out an inch or so and then pushing back inside. Reggie groans and lets his head fall back to the pillow, and Caleb begins fucking him with earnest, sure to keep the pace slow only until he notices the head of Reggie’s hard cock smearing pre-come all over the sheets with every thrust. Then he pushes his palm down on Reggie’s lower back so that his dick drags against the bed when he fucks into him again. Reggie gasps and moans at the feeling, and Caleb leans down over him and murmurs into his ear, “Told you.”

“Thank you,” Reggie breathes out, cut off when Caleb pulls almost entirely out and then thrusts back into him quickly, causing Reggie to bury his face in the pillow again. Caleb fucks him hard, one hand on his hip to steady him, the other gripping his shoulder to pull Reggie's body back to meet Caleb's cock. It’s easy to lose track of time like this, fucking into a tight virgin who can’t stop making these delicious sounds, but he holds himself in check, in control of everything as always, and after awhile, when he sees Reggie’s hand going to his cock, he grabs his wrist, pins it to the bed.

“Uh-uh,” he says, his chest to Reggie’s back, his mouth brushing against the kid’s ear. “You should come from my cock alone, baby.” Reggie whines, biting down on the pillow when Caleb responds with a particularly hard thrust.

“I can’t, Caleb--I can’t--I need--” Reggie says, but Caleb knows. The kid’s come twice tonight already, and this is his first time ever getting fucked. Reggie coming without a hand on his cock might be impossible, if Caleb wasn’t so goal-oriented.

“Don’t you wanna be good for Daddy?” he asks. He can feel it around his dick when Reggie shudders.

“I--I do, but--”

“I’ll let you touch yourself if you really want to,” Caleb says, releasing his hold on Reggie’s hand and rolling his hips. “Remember what I said all those months ago, baby. Nothing more or less than exactly what you want happens between us, right?” Reggie nods, his spoken confirmation muffled. Caleb pulls his hair until his face is thoroughly free from the pillow and asks again, “Right?”

“Yes, yes, Caleb,” Reggie answers breathlessly, moaning again when Caleb’s hips snap forward.

“Everything we’ve done has been all on you, just like I said the first time you came to me, hasn’t it?” Caleb asks. Reggie nods, wincing at the harsh tug of his hair.

“Yes, yeah, everything we’ve done--” Reggie groans, loud and low in his throat, taking a second to catch his breath before continuing. “Everything we’ve done--it’s what I wanted. You always give me what I want.”

“And this won’t be any different, baby,” Caleb says, releasing Reggie’s hair. “You decide like always. How do you want to come tonight, baby?”

Reggie comes untouched half an hour later, his hands clenched into fists and white-knuckled twisted in the sheets, his tongue tripping over _Caleb_ and landing instead on _Daddy_. Caleb fucks him through it, and fucks him even harder for a minute or two afterward - “a reward for Daddy’s favorite,” he says, baring his teeth against the back of Reggie’s neck - before muttering in his ear, “You want me to come inside you, baby? You want Daddy to really make you a man? Use your words.”

It’s the best orgasm Caleb’s experienced in at least sixteen years, and when he pulls out - slowly again, gingerly - he rubs his hand over Reggie’s lower back again, down over the curve of his ass, and watches as the come begins to leak out of Reggie’s hole.

\---

_Eventually you’ll feel bad enough for all this that you’ll stop going back to them altogether_ , Caleb thinks as Reggie bounces on his cock with unmatched enthusiasm but rather sloppy technique. If he acts bored, Reggie notices, and doesn’t even wait until he’s come himself to beg Caleb to take him how he wants.

_You’ll come to my club--_ , Caleb thinks as Reggie clutches a table after all the guests have left the night's party, jeans pooling around his ankles while Caleb is still in his evening best, only the zipper of his pants undone. Reggie gasps every time Caleb smacks his ass, and between Caleb's hand on him and the belt buckle meeting his body with each thrust, his pale skin is satisfyingly red by the time they both come.

_\--and you'll come upstairs--_ , Caleb thinks as Reggie holds his legs up behind his knees, pushed to his shoulders, while Caleb pounds him into the couch. He was thrilled to learn that Reggie is surprisingly flexible, and delighted by the confirmation that he's eager to be fucked any way Caleb suggests.

_\--and you'll come all over my rug, my sofa, my vanity, my sheets--_ , Caleb thinks as Reggie clings tightly to his hand for balance while he leans back and rides him hard, takes him deep. His own dick is flushed red and all tied up with a ribbon for no reason other than Caleb wanted to see it, and now it's slapping against his soft middle, leaving wet traces of pre-come with every vigorous grind downward, but he's learned so well he doesn't even try to seek his own release.

_\--and you'll beg me to let you stay_ , Caleb thinks as he fucks deep into Reggie and stays there, barely pulling out, simply rolling his hips and reveling in the way he keeps making the kid go completely blank. He gets Reggie to use his words while he's being fucked, gets off on him stammering through descriptions of his vision whiting out, his feeling so full, full of Caleb, like he belongs to him.

Caleb doesn't tell him this.

Caleb tells him what a good fuck he is, the best Daddy's ever had, his very fucking favorite, and at this point, it might actually be the truth, or else it might as well be.

Caleb tells him, "Hold yourself open for me, baby - yeah, just like that." Caleb tells him, "You take it so well, baby, like you were made for Daddy's cock." Caleb tells him, "It's so damn lucky you met me, baby, or you'd never even know. You'd just be wandering the afterlife not even knowing how empty you feel without me."

Caleb tells him to arrive at the club early on one particular Wednesday evening, before the party even officially begins. It’s hours before Reggie usually makes his way up to the dressing room, so the uncertain twitch of his eyebrows when he steps into the room, the vague wariness in his eyes - it’s all perfectly understandable, and, as Caleb tells Reggie while he pulls on his glittering black coat for the night, perfectly unnecessary.

“I just wanted you here early because tonight is a special night,” Caleb says reassuringly, his hands on Reggie’s shoulders.

“It is?” Reggie asks, brow furrowing even more. Caleb smiles and raises his right hand to snap his fingers. Reggie’s clothes change abruptly from post-grunge 1990s pop punk musician vibes to something more appropriate for the Hollywood Ghost Club stage, something it's seen before. He looks down at himself in open-mouthed surprise for a moment before looking back up at Caleb, eyes wide, looking more wary than ever even as he gives Caleb an uncomfortable smile. “Still sweet threads,” he says with a nervous laugh. “But, um, if you’re talking about it being one year since we, uh, played here and then--”

“Ditched me?” Caleb asks, deadpan. Reggie frowns.

“Yeah--that was actually, um, last week,” he says awkwardly. “I remember because we tried to bake Julie an anniversary cake--”

“It’s not _that_ anniversary, baby,” Caleb says. “It’s _ours_.” Reggie blinks, searching Caleb’s face for a moment, before a smile slowly takes over his face.

“It’s--it’s been a year since--”

“Since you showed up here pretending you had no idea why,” Caleb finishes. Reggie blushes, but his smile remains.

“I didn’t think you’d--you know,” he says, shrugging.

“You didn’t think I’d remember our anniversary, baby?” Caleb pouts. “That was silly of you.” He kisses Reggie on the cheek and turns back toward the vanity, adjusting his tie. “Of course,” he continues, his voice taking a cooler tone, “I did also remember the other one last week. Say, have you--have you ever told Alex and Luke where you go on our date nights?” Reggie’s shoulders go instantly to his ears.

“I come back every night, before morning,” he says, too casually. “It’s not like, you know, I’m gone for long enough to make them miss me.” He shrugs one tense shoulder, unable to hide his wince at the soreness, the guilt coloring his skin all down his neck. “Besides, Luke hangs out with Julie a lot, you know, and--and Alex goes--wherever Alex goes, sometimes. We don’t have to be together _all_ the time, or keep constant tabs on each other just because we’re family.” Caleb meets his eyes in the reflection of the mirror and frowns at him, raising his eyebrows a little so Reggie can see the pity in his eyes.

“Family who doesn’t notice when you disappear a couple times a week?” he asks. “Family who doesn’t notice how much you’ve grown up over the past year?” Reggie flushes deeper as he swallows and looks away. Caleb makes a _tsk_ sound and waves his hand dismissively. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head at himself. “I’m breaking my own unofficial rule of not bringing up the boys to you when it’s just the two of us.” He turns around and places his hands on Reggie’s shoulders again, massaging gently at the hard muscles, giving the kid a small smile when he meets his gaze again.

“I asked you here early tonight because it’s _our_ anniversary, and so I could put you in your _sweet threads_ from a year ago,” he says. “It’s vintage Gucci - it’d be a shame to let it go to waste completely - and you look _so_ good in red, baby. But if it makes you uncomfortable--”

“No, no, I like it,” Reggie says, his smile returning, too, albeit more subdued than before. “I want to wear it.” Caleb rewards him with a kiss, passionate and dizzying and ending up with him pressing Reggie against the wall where a bed will be later. 

“ _And_ ,” Caleb continues after pulling away and leaving Reggie reeling in his sudden absence, “I wanted to ask you to perform with me tonight.” Reggie blinks, dazed and breathless.

“Perform?”

“Music! Not one of your other kinds of shows,” Caleb says with an affectionate smirk. Reggie frowns as his mind catches up to the conversation, his hands hovering around Caleb’s belt.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to do _one_ song,” he says finally. Caleb doesn’t drop his smirk, but he raises an eyebrow.

“Are you sure?” he asks. Reggie swallows and nods, his mood visibly lifting with each passing second. 

“I want to perform a song with you tonight,” he says, rocking up onto his tiptoes, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Anything you want, baby. You’re so good,” Caleb says, rewarding him with another kiss. “One song,” he says, holding Reggie’s face in his hands, fingers curled around the back of his head, “then you can set yourself loose in the crowd, and I’ll meet you back here afterward as usual. Sound good, baby?”

“Yes,” Reggie breathes. Caleb lets Reggie kiss him this time, desperate and poorly coordinated though it is, and the moment the kid’s hips snap forward and Caleb feels his erection, he steps away and pats him gently on the side of his face. Reggie almost falls over trying to follow, but Caleb just picks up his hat and gives him an expectant look.

“Well? Call forth your bass, Reggie,” he says before grabbing his cane and breezing out of the room.

It’s one song, then two, then three, and then Reggie stands in the wing watching Caleb for the rest of the night, sipping from a bottle of soda that never quite empties. When the party ends, Caleb acts surprised to see Reggie there, so close to him, as if he hasn’t been acutely aware of Reggie’s every move, every mood, every fleeting microexpression for the last year. Tonight’s a _special_ night, after all, and he has to play it all right to get the confirmation he needs. He tugs Reggie up the stairs in a hurry and presses him to the wall again just inside the dressing room, toys with the ladybug buttons on his shirt and hungrily eyes his mouth.

“We could’ve been doing this, you know, Reggie,” Caleb tells him in a low voice. “If you’d said yes to my offer last year, this wonderful thing between you and me - it wouldn’t just be once or twice a week, but every single night, after these parties.” Reggie inhales sharply as Caleb’s mouth goes to his neck, lips grazing softly over the warm skin, careful as always to not leave marks where others could see. That’ll end tonight - Caleb can’t wait to sink his teeth in - but right now, he licks across the hollow of Reggie’s throat and murmurs, “I’d never get tired of you. You’ll never get enough of me, baby. You’d have your fill of me any time you wanted.”

It’s not true. If the band had agreed to his offer to join him, he would’ve chosen Luke. It would have been more of a fight, sure, but also maybe more fun. This, though - this slow dismantling and rebuilding of Reggie’s boundaries and loyalties and desires, all under his watchful eye and masterful hand - this has been really fucking good, too. 

“I want to stay the night tonight,” Reggie whispers. Caleb pulls back to look at him, one eyebrow raised.

“Can you?” he asks. Reggie doesn’t break eye contact.

“As long as I leave by sunrise. I mean, it _is_ our anniversary after all,” Reggie answers, his big pretty doe eyes focused and bright, pupils wide. _That’ll be the oxytocin release_ , Caleb thinks, but he doesn’t tell Reggie this either. He smiles and waves his hand somewhere behind him, the bed materializing soundlessly just as he leans in to kiss Reggie again, fingers working open the buttons of his shirt one by one.

Reggie crawls into his bed and Caleb spoons him while they fuck, Reggie’s leg balanced over Caleb’s, and jerks him off slowly, surely. He’s never done this before - never touched Reggie _during_ , never tucked himself so close and sweet around Reggie’s body. It’s the most intimate they’ve ever been and it’s gonna fuck with the kid’s pretty, empty head and loyal, full heart, and Caleb could get off on that thought alone, but in the end what does him in is Reggie calling him _Daddy_ so freely, Reggie’s hand scrambling desperately at the sheet when he comes in Caleb’s fist. Caleb moans against the back of Reggie’s neck when he fills him, biting where it curves into his shoulder and making him gasp again at the sharp sensation. It leaves a mark he’ll have to hide. It’ll be a struggle but he’ll manage it, and then he’ll realize he liked the challenge, and in two weeks he’ll be begging Caleb to leave more visible marks on him. Caleb smiles and mouths lightly at the shell of Reggie’s ear before pulling out with care, stroking his wet hand over Reggie’s inner thigh as he does.

They fuck the entire night. Reggie _wants_ to, and he says it every single time, for every single act, no prompting needed, and Caleb says, “Anything you want, baby,” over and over until he’s certain it’s been carved into the bones Reggie technically doesn’t have any longer.

Reggie tells him, “I want you to fuck me on my hands and knees, Daddy.” Reggie tells him, “I want you to come on my face, Daddy.” Reggie tells him, “I want you to pull my hair. I want you to hold me down, Daddy. I want you to fuck my throat. I want you to make me come on just your cock.”

Reggie tells him, “I want--I want--I want you to come inside me, Daddy.”

Caleb kicks him out of bed in the morning, the pale light from the sun just beginning to rise painting the room with a soft brightness from the window behind the sofa. Reggie looks wrecked - _ruined_ \- and enamored. Reggie looks like he doesn’t want to leave at all. Caleb smiles as Reggie ties his flannel shirt around his waist, already popping the collar of his leather jacket to hide the bite mark on his neck, and winks when Reggie turns toward him to wave goodbye before disappearing. Then he _keeps_ smiling, to himself, where Reggie can’t see the twisted gleam growing darker in his eyes, because Caleb knows something Reggie doesn’t.

He’s won.

Caleb has won and Reggie doesn’t even know. Caleb has won and the others don’t even know either. By the time they do, it’ll be too late. Reggie’s already his. Even when Reggie leaves one day and doesn’t come back a few days later - and he _will_ leave one day and not come back for days, weeks, maybe months, if he’s got a stronger constitution than Caleb gives him credit for - the guilt will make him sick, drive the wedge that’s already forming that much deeper, cut him off from them, and _then_ he’ll be back.

He doesn’t have to stamp Reggie’s wrist to stake his claim. He doesn’t need to concern himself with Reggie’s soul when he already has his body and his mind and a growing portion of his heart.

The kid’s soul will follow, eventually.


End file.
